Lestrades Umbrella Kink and Myrcofts Accommodation
by Tattles
Summary: When they first meet Lestrade thought he was a transsexual cosplayer, turns out he was the most important man in the government. Lestrade liked the umbrella but he never knew how erotic it would be. Mycroft/Lestrade with an umbrella thrown in.


**Title:** Lestrade's Umbrella Kink and Mycroft's Accommodation of it

**Rating:** M cause I have no idea about the American classifications. There is swearing and mentions of fetishes.

**Word Count:** 2500

**Characters/Parings:** Mycroft Holmes/G Lestrade, Sherlock/John, Mrs Hudson, Sally Donovan, Anderson, Molly, Moriarty.

**Warnings/Spoilers:** Warnings for slash crack and fetishes. I may have a fancy for crack fics lately and this seems to be crack. I'm sitting here writing it going 'this would never happen in real life' or my favourite 'what am I on? This is plain crack'. Fetish warning includes an umbrella fetish and a violin and violin bow fetish. Holmes brother must attract men with fetishes and sexual appetites only they can fulfil.

**Summary:** When they first meet Lestrade thought he was a transsexual cosplayer, turns out he was the most important man in the government. But oh does he love that umbrella.

**A/N:** So I have actually been trying to write a Supernatural fic but this idea just popped into him head instead. I apologise in advance for the nature of this fic, it is crack.

* * *

><p><strong>4 years ago<strong>

It was pissing down with rain, saturating everything and everyone around the light flooded crime scene. Gregory Lestrade was huddled inside his coat, desperate for a bit of warmth. Sherlock was due to arrive in a few minutes and all Anderson could do was bitching in his ear. Acting like he had nothing to do but complain about an amateur coming in and messing up his crime scene.

Shivering under all his layers, Lestrade wished for the hundredth time that he was nice and cosy back at his flat where he would be dry and warm. But no some poor sod had been killed and it was his duty to find the bastard who did it.

Lestrade's attention was snagged as a sleek black car turned onto the street, driving right up to the curb where Lestrade was standing. Disregarding the car Lestrade turned back to his street watching, waiting for a London cab to deliver the sociopathic Sherlock Holmes.

From the corner of his eye, Lestrade watched as a well dressed man exited the car, a black umbrella already up and in use. The man approached Lestrade sedately, radiating power and authority even in the pouring rain.

His presence had Lestrade wondering why this case would attract the attention of the suits and higher ups of the Police or possibly government. "Detective Inspector Lestrade" the man said with all the certainty of one use to being in charge.

"Yes?" Lestrade couldn't keep the weariness from his tone, this night couldn't end fast enough for Lestrade.

"I'm afraid Sherlock Holmes cannot make it tonight"

Lestrade swore a blue streak, just what he needed. Sherlock unable to show, for whatever reason, and a suit telling him that the higher ups didn't approve of Sherlock helping solve crimes. Lestrade inwardly scoffed, the higher ups didn't know what a help Sherlock was. Sure he was a pain in the ass but he was a very helpful pain in the ass.

Sighing Lestrade ran a hand through his hair. No matter the reason, Sherlock wasn't coming and so it was up to him and his team to figure this one out. A pain in the ass since this one had stumped them all. It looked like murder, the evidence around the scene pointed to murder but the victim appeared to have suicided. Sighing again Lestrade began calling his team to order, giving out jobs and getting the scene ready for processing.

"Thanks" he muttered to the suit, "Mr ..." he paused. Who was this man? Lestrade couldn't recall him introducing himself. He gazed at him critically, calling about all his training and instincts and yet nothing appeared off about this man, he gave no outwards sighs of evil intentions. He really didn't seem to give any sighs of emotions, apart from arrogance, pompousness and other qualities required for officials.

"Who are you? How do you know Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, his tone bordering on accusing.

The man smirked before raising his hands and giving Lestrade a brief little round of applause. "I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother."

Lestrade's eyes widened, "God help us all, there are two of you"

Mycroft smiled a cross between a genuine smile and a smirk. If Lestrade had been a girl in one of those cheesy romance books he'd have fainted from the shock and the imaginings of two Holmes'. He didn't think the world could handle two of them.

Mycroft watch the man before him assimilate the knowledge of who he was, at least in regards to Sherlock, he really didn't think that D.I. Lestrade would be comfortable knowing that the man before his ran the country from behind the scenes.

* * *

><p><strong>5 months later<strong>

The next time Lestrade met Mycroft Holmes it was on his day off. He was walking through London when he spotted the man exiting a posh hotel, an entourage following him. One woman had her head down as she fiddled with a Blackberry, Lestrade wondered how she knew where she was going, or how she refrained from crashing into things or people.

Mycroft Holmes was almost strutting down the street, umbrella hanging loosely from his hand. Lestrade glanced at the sky, a few puffy white clouds marred the expanse of blue that was visible. Suppose the umbrella hid some sort of weapon. Or drugs. Lestrade scoffed, the eldest Holmes brother seemed to well off to be carrying drugs.

Then again, he could be a drug lord.

One Scotland Yard had never heard about.

Yeah right, unlikely. It was more likely that he simply liked carrying an umbrella around. Maybe he liked to confuse people, keep them wondering why he carried an umbrella while his people do nefarious deeds.

Lestrade sighed, he really should take a holiday. Go somewhere nice and sunny and get away from criminal London for a while.

A pair of shoes came into Lestrade vision. He cursed. Lifting his gaze slowly Lestrade took in the black suit, white shirt and black tie. The man's face was onscerred by a pair of dark sunglasses, his hair slicked back and parted down the middle. All in all the man looked like he was some sort of spy or security. Shit.

"Detective Inspector" a voice called out, Lestrade glanced behind the security man in front of him to see Mycroft Holmes smiling at him. "How are the cases coming along Inspector. Sherlock seems enraptured by the nice murder spree going on. I do hope your including him in your investigations."

Lestrade was at a loss of what to say or do. He simply stared at the group before him.

"Who are you? Really?"

Mycroft's smile widened, "I occupy a minor position in the government"

Lestrade almost choked, "Minor?" he questioned his voice conveying his doubt in the nature of the man's position. "Unlikely. You Holmes' can't take orders. Not even to save your own lives"

Mycroft laughed then, "Clever Mr Lestrade. Very clever." He sighed dramatically and Lestrade noticed the woman with the Blackberry roll her eyes, "No it's not really a minor position. More like I am the British government" he paused, "and the secret services for that matter"

Lestrade was flabbergasted. Until he noticed the umbrella again. An umbrella very similar to the one Mary Poppins had sported.

Lestrade paused and Mycroft allowed the small break in conversation, clearly he could see that Lestrade was trying to digest what he had just learnt. "So you're like Mary Poppins?" he asked finally a smile grin spreading at the look of the group. Mycroft look horrified, the woman with the Blackberry had raised it up to hide a smile and the security men had paused, their faces blank as they tried to determine whether the question deserved violent actions.

"You're the Mary Poppins of the government. Can you pull anything from that umbrella? Or have you got a bag for that stashed somewhere else?"

Mycroft drew in air and tried to calm himself. "I am not Mary Poppins" he stressed each word, emphasising his point.

Lestrade simply smiled.

"You like my umbrella then?" Mycroft asked, clearly taking a different tactic.

It worked too, Lestrade glanced at the umbrella in question but didn't answer. He seemed to be unable to look away from the navy fabric.

Lestrade heard Mycroft hum knowingly, he quickly jerked his gaze up to see the knowing look in his eyes. Glancing away Lestrade shuffled he's feet, "well, if you'll excuse me. Things to do" he mumbled as he attempted to walk past Mycroft and his people.

From the corner of his eye Lestrade saw an arm snaked out and grabbed his bicep. He tried to get away but wasn't quick enough.

"You can't leave now Mr Lestrade. Terribly rude of you." The man seemed to consider him, eyes drifting up and down Lestrade's body in a scrutinising manner. "I will give you a lift" Mycroft states, his voice confident and daring anyone to contradict him. Lestrade doesn't know how to respond or how to say no without getting himself into more trouble with the man behind the government.

Lestrade finds himself pushed into the back seat of a black car, Mycroft sliding in beside him and the woman with the Blackberry sitting next to the driver. Lestrade thinks that the driver could be one of the security men, he is fairly certain that the rest of them are following in another car.

Mycroft his silent next to him but Lestrade can feel his gaze on him. It is unnerving to say the least. Finally the silent stillness of the back seat is broken as Mycroft lifts his umbrella bringing it to rest against Lestrade's leg.

Lestrade goes ridged, uncertain what Mycroft hopes to accomplish. The umbrella soon starts moving. Mycroft is rubbing it up and down in the imitation of a caress. Lestrade begins to feel conflicted, Mycroft's use of his umbrella is strangely erotic. The umbrella continues to caress Lestrade, lightly drifting over his knee before resting on top of his thighs.

Mycroft is smirking, though Lestrade can see a slight tinge of pink in his cheeks and there seems to be a bulge in his pants.

Lestrade certainly has a bulge. The next movement of the umbrella causes a moan to burst from the detective's lips. Mycroft's smirk widens.

Before anything further can happen the car comes to a stop and the woman with the Blackberry announces that they have reached Lestrade's apartment.

Startled and aroused Lestrade glances at Mycroft, he looks away after a second. Opening the door he says a thank you to the car in general before hoisting himself out, he walks as quickly as possible to the front door, lets himself in before rushing to his apartment where he hides himself in his room for the rest of the day.

If questioned Lestrade would deny that he spend the rest of the day masturbating to the memory or trying to recreate it. He would deny that in those dark hours of the night when your most secret fantasies take you that his was Mycroft with that umbrella doing sinful things. He would until the day he died deny that he would become aroused whenever Mycroft appeared with his umbrella.

And he would deny that he ever saw the looks Mycroft directed at him, the smirk or the way he would purposely caress his umbrella or idly twirl it in an indecent manner.

Lestrade does not speak of what happened that day. Mycroft has certainly never bought it up. And Lestrade can live with that. It was the single most erotic thing he'd ever done and it would never happen again.

* * *

><p><strong>Present day, 2010<strong>

Lestrade was jerked from his memories by the insistent tone of Dr John Watson, "Lestrade?"

"Hmm" he muttered, trying to suppress the involuntary reaction to the memory of Mycroft holding that umbrella. Every time he'd seen him since, Mycroft had been in possession of an umbrella of some description.

Lestrade almost moaned as he thought of the way Mycroft would hold an umbrella, as if it were a lover to be caressed and stroked. It was goddamn indecent of the bloke and had had Lestrade bulging the first few times he met the man.

Lestrade once again tuned out what the good doctor was saying. "Leave it John. Lestrade is lost in day dreams of Mycroft and his umbrella"

Sherlock's patronising tone wrenched Lestrade once again from his dreams. Spluttering he tried to deny any such thoughts but Sherlock's raised eyebrow and knowing look stopped any protest.

"Alright, so I have a thing for the man. Shoot me" he muttered, determinedly not looking at either man. He could almost hear the smirk in Sherlock's voice as he pointed out to John how right he'd been before waltzing off.

John on the other hand walked over to the DI and patted his arm. "It's hard not to be attracted to their accessories. You should see Sherlock with his violin." The Dr swore, his voice taking on a husky tone. "That man knows certainly knows how to play me."

Startled and having heard way too much information the DI stared at John. Looking up John caught the slightly horrified look in Lestrade's eyes, "Right... Well... Yes. Too much information there, sorry about that." He paused, glancing at the way Sherlock had gone. "I was only trying to say that I understand."

Nodding Lestrade took a small step away from John Watson.

Lestrade's secret was finally out. Everyone seemed to know that Lestrade fancied Mycroft Holmes, especially when he was wielding that umbrella of his.

Lestrade sits down in his chair and stares off into space. He wonders if it is possible to die from embarrassment, probably not, it's too quick. No Lestrade is certain that this will continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, it will be bought up at every staff party and everyone will have a good old laugh at the poor DI who lusted after an umbrella.

Lestrade is so lost in his wallowing that he fails to notice the knock on his door or the man who enters after he receives no reply. He does notice however when a hand waves in front of his face. Glancing up Lestrade is mortified to see Mycroft Holmes standing in his office in all his sexiness, umbrella in hand.

Lestrade groans, and not the good kind, but in pain. How much torture can one man take? Mycroft however simply stands there, silent and staring, as if he is waiting for Lestrade to make the first move. Considering he is standing there he probably is waiting for Lestrade.

Lestrade stands, "Why are you here?" he asks, voice weary.

"My brother tells me that he has made an interesting discovery about you and I simply had to come and find out whether he was right"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for the man to continue.

Mycroft glanced away before looking back at Lestrade, "he seems to be under the impression that you fancy me"

"Ah" was Lestrade's only answer.

"I wondered if it was true" Lestrade was struck by how vulnerable Mycroft appeared. Lestrade had always thought the man confident and self assured but now he was the complete opposite, unsure as to where he stood and uncertain if he would be accepted.

Lestrade nodded, "Yes. I fancy you. Have almost since the first time I met you"

Mycroft was smiling now, but not the smirk or knowing grin Lestrade had seen before but a true smile, a beaming grin that caused crinkles around his eyes and made visible a small dimple of his left cheek. Lestrade smiled back.

"I also fancy that umbrella of yours" he added cheekily.

Mycroft's grin turned into a smirk, "Oh do you now? Well I guess we will have to have a threesome with the umbrella in question"

Lestrade dissolved into laughter. Oh he was looking forward to that.


End file.
